


Far From Home Prequel 2: The Tribal Chief’s Mate

by HeRell_77



Series: Far From Home [4]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Complete, Crying, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, May/December Relationship, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Rape Aftermath, Rape Recovery, Romance, Sexual Slavery, Short, Slavery, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-29
Packaged: 2020-08-19 00:37:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 11,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20200843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeRell_77/pseuds/HeRell_77
Summary: ***COMPLETE— Far From Home Prequel: Jacob & Srin'yete's story***"When I'm old enough, I'm gonna mate you, JakeJake. Don't forget, ok? You're gonna be mine forever.""Of course,arayna," Jacob replied with the deepest of smiles touching his lips. Srin'yete's infatuation with Jacob would peter out as he grew, so Jacob saw no reason to deny his little fantasy now.Arayna, Jacob called him.Little dear heart. "Forever,arayna."Srin'yete has never known freedom. Taken from his home when he was still only a child, Srin'yete has lived each day thinking only of the face of the man he left behind. The man who swore he'd someday be his forever.Now Srin'yete has returned to his homeland, escaping from a terrible fate with the help of an unlikely savior, only to be reviled and cast aside by the home he left so long before. Devoid of hope and tired of the pain of living, Srin'yete is ready to give up. But that man, who thought he lost the little boy he adored all those years ago, won't give him up so easily. Even if it means keeping that promise he made to the little boy he never thought he'd have to keep.Even if it means giving life and love a second chance.





	1. PROLOGUE: Marriage Agreement

JACOB—

“JakeJake!” the child cooed, jumping into my arms without warning and making me cackle with laughter. I gathered him up, feeling my laughter double as he squirmed and giggled in my arms, the sound pulled from deep in my chest. “Higher, JakeJake!”

I swung the child in a circle as he clung to me like a lifeline, all chubby limbs and long, dark brown hair. 

“JakeJake, I missed you!” the child shouted up at me, his group of parents chuckling behind him. Their gaggle of children, none over the age of 10, wound around their feet and the feet of my mate Menya. She met my eyes as I looked over at her, her mouth curved in a knowing smirk. 

It was no secret my precious Srin was my favorite of the Regniir family children. There were six, with Srin being somewhere near the exact middle at five-years-old, but there was something about his jubilant, joyous spirit that called to me and simply made me smile. 

I dug my nose into his hair, basking in the scent of homemade soap and some kind of herb. One of his mothers, Troy’an, was a hedge witch, and each of the children bore the smells of herbs and protection charms. 

“Leave the poor man be,” Lillian called, her eyes sparkling with laughter. Lillian was Srin’s birth mother, the one who bore him in her womb, and their resemblance was stunning. She had the same light-toned skin, angular yet soft features, and green-black eyes. His mother was obvious, his father less so. 

The Regniir family had five mates in their union— three women and two men. Lillian, Troy’an, and Gaz, and Ander and Cratz. Both men could be Srin’s father, but I had money on Cratz. Ander’s darker skin tone would have clashed with Lillian’s, and Srin would have darker skin than he did. 

“No!” Srin called back to his mother stubbornly. “He’s mine! My JakeJake!”

I chuckled and met my mate’s eyes as she laughed even harder at me. Sadly, my mate and I had never been able to bear children. We’d tried, prayed for young of our own, but it had simply never been gifted to us by the gods. Due to this, we had chosen the Regniir family as an adopted family of sorts, and would choose one of their young as my heir. 

They all thought I would likely pick Srin, but I wasn’t as sure. Did I adore the bright, joyful boy? Of course. He was the light of my life. 

But I wasn’t sure if he was strong enough for the mantle of Chief. 

The title took much out of you, and I wasn’t sure if I wanted to drag the boy down with the worries and responsibilities of being Chief. 

“He’s not yours,” Ander grumbled, moving forward to pry the child from my arms. “He belongs to his mate, Menya,”

“But imma gonna be his mate when I’m big. Aren’t I, Papa?”

The man smirked and winked at me as the child reluctantly released his iron grip on me. 

Ander set the boy on his feet as Menya stepped up beside me and gripped my hand in her own. 

“I don’t see why not, little one,” Menya whispered in her quiet, calm, unassuming voice. “Once you’re of age, I wouldn’t mind sharing my Jacob with one as cute as you.”

“See, Papa?” the boy crowed, yanking away from the man and running back to clutch my legs in a big, enveloping hug. He stared up into my eyes and his face was oddly solemn and somber for a child of five. 

“When I’m old enough, I’m gonna mate you, JakeJake. Don’t forget, ok? You’re gonna be mine forever.”

“Of course, _arayna_,” I replied with the deepest of smiles touching my lips. His infatuation with me would peter out as he grew, so I saw no reason to deny his little fantasy now. _Arayna_, I called him. _Little dear heart_. “Forever, _arayna_.”


	2. Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *****Ok, so I warned ya'll about triggers already, so I'm not gonna again. I never go into detail because um, no, but things are mentioned and remembered. I'd say enjoy, but, like, it's not likely :/
> 
> Also, look, it's Amer and also Llyric! :):) *****

SRINY'ETE—

My first memories were of his face, smiling and laughing and watching me with joy. I barely remembered my parents— my three mamas and two papas, but oh, through my many years away from home, I remembered him. 

The last time I saw him, he jokingly agreed to my proposal of marriage. Then my family left to travel back to our home— a farm a day's ride outside Summerstone Tribe— and we never returned like we promised we would. 

I'd been in love with him for as long as I could remember. My mamas and papas thought my love was cute, something to laugh at but to never take seriously. Even my Jacob thought that I was but a child with a child's naive love, and that I would grow out of my love for him. 

I knew they were wrong. And I had an ally in Jacob's mate Menya. I knew she understood that I may have been a child, but that didn't negate the truth of my love. It made it stronger, in a way. For only a child loves with their whole being, without fear of pain or rejection. It was different to an adult's love— all shining worship and pure as freshly fallen snow. Pure as a falling star. But it would evolve with time, always just with some time, and I think only Menya and I shared that knowledge. 

It's only now, staring down at the rocks below me, that I'm able to picture his face again, after so many years, and feel no pain. Only love and longing and joy. I wished I could have seen him again, gods, just one more time. From afar, even. I wonder what the years had done to my big, strong love. It had been... gods, I didn't even know. 12... 13 years? Where I had been kept for those many, many years, time didn't matter. Time was something that rushed by as you endured the pain and degradation and tried to keep your mind your own, because your body was so ravaged it was impossible to keep your autonomy in anything _but_ your mind. 

The waves breaking across the rocks brought me back to the present, staring out across a great expanse of dark sea. The sun would be setting soon on the land of my birth, and, I thought morosely, on my life. 

_I'll leave this world near to the place I came into it_.

It had taken years to get me to this desperate place. Years of torture at the hands of a sadistic master, a man who took the innocence of children and raped it from their bodies. He had kept me longer than he had ever kept another. Or so I was frequently told, though there was another deep in the dungeons who had once been as a friend to me. Even now, I could hear his muffled screams. 

When I was first brought to the Monster's castle, I was sent to a dark room with half a dozen little cots on either side. There were only a handful of other children in the room, but one stood out among the others. Tiny and frail-looking, light curly hair, the boy had the voice of an angel as he pulled me to his chest in a deep hug and sang against the top of my head as I sobbed. 

I cried for the loss of my family, killed right before my eyes, my mamas and papas, my sisters and brothers, even baby Katya, who hadn't even left Mama Gas's breast yet. But for some reason, the slavers had left me alive and taken me directly here, to the castle set in stone and built into the side of a mountain. Where this tiny boy, my age but so much smaller and skinnier, more delicate than a butterfly's wings, held me to his chest and let me vent my sorrow into his shirt. 

"My name's Llyric," the boy whispered when my sobs had died into gentle hiccups. "I'm gonna take care of you, ok? We're gonna be friends. You'll see."

But he had lied, for after that night, after we fell to sleep in each other's arms, I never saw him again. He was summoned by a woman he called "Nanny" to his Father, and he left with a fearful, apprehensive glance back at me. 

That night, we all heard the screams. I and the two other children, whose names and faces I can't remember, huddled in a single cot in terror as the horrific sounds echoed down the halls to our ears. Llyric's screams, begging and pleading, then the moans and shouts of a man. A man I would soon grow to fear with every bone in my body, but for now didn't know the sound of. His screams heightened, then he was calling for guards as Llyric's sobs grew to anguished screeches. 

Then all was silent, and we never saw him again. 

It was nearly a month later, the first time the Monster called me to his bed. A month I spent in terrified anticipation, playing half heartedly with the other children, eating what Nanny brought for us, and trying not to let her words of warning go to heart. 

"Don't fight the Master," she would croon in her sickly sweet, disgustingly bile-inducing voice. "Llyric fought the Master, and now he suffers greatly. Gotta give the Master what he desires, right, children?"

I sat at the cliff's edge now, over a decade later, and wonder for the millionth time what happened to Llyric. No matter how much I fought Father— no, Lord Butcger— no matter how much I fought him off, bit and clawed and kicked, he never backed off. My struggles sometimes even egged him on to more excitement, more lust. 

So what could Llyric have possibly done to deserve whatever it was that happened to him that we never saw him again? Sometimes I could swear I heard muffled sobs of agony, from deep inside the stones, late at night or in the dawn's bristling light, but I always dismissed it as my own mind playing tricks on me. The ghost of the boy who had been kind to me in a place that lacked all kindness, tenderness, and joy. 

My feet kicked against the air, my eyes closed against the breeze that threatened to prematurely throw me from the cliff's edge. I forced my mind to skip over the years under the Monster's thumb, refusing to dwell on the decade in his bed, beneath his disgusting body, and remembered back to the last time I had almost lost all hope, before an unlikely source gave it back. 

Finally tired of my burgeoning adult body, the Monster sold me to a slaver, who brought me to Veil, the El'kahrian capital. I wanted nothing more than to be sold to a kind master, or even to be a farm slave to an unkind master, for farm slaves so very rarely even came into contact with the master. But of course, the fates never were kind. 

I was immediately brought into the king's castle, where I was given over to the Master of Slaves. 

We were all told horror stories of the Master of Slaves, Denbar the Cruel. Nanny loved to tell us where we would eventually end up, with Butcger was done with us. We all knew what Denbar's purpose was— to prepare slaves for their future duties. And what I had practice and what I had perfected over the years could only be translated into duties as a sex slave. What Denbar did to male sex slaves was Nanny's favorite horror story.

I knew I wouldn't survive it. I knew I would let myself go, let my mind break and drift, and my body would follow shortly. I had accepted this, had been almost looking forward to it. I was left for the night to sleep in the slave quarters, to be attended by Denbar in the morning. But I was shaken awake— though truly asleep I wasn't— by a teenage boy who looked almost too ethereal to be real. His hair was a golden shade of blonde I'd never seen before, skin the color of a god's, almost seeming to glow a little, and eyes that shone with fear and empathy. 

"Keep quiet, and come with me," the boy whispered. 

I followed silently, without a hint of hesitation or disobedience, naked except for a loincloth, my body covered in the bruises, scars, and brands of my years in the Monster's service. I followed with nothing but trepidation in my heart. I had an idea who the boy was, an inkling of a hope, from stories that trickled to the Monster's home from the capital. Stories of the king's daughters and son, and how they took care of the victims of their father's greed. But I'd never allowed myself to hope for something like that for myself. 

Stories like that brought hope, and I'd lost all sense of that so long ago I didn't even know what it tasted like anymore. 

But the boy, barely out of childhood, half a decade younger than me, took me straight to a kitchen, where a big man stood waiting. 

"We don't have a lot of time," the man whispered. "The guard change is in five minutes."

"Thank you, Dew," the boy replied. 

I followed the boy's lead as he grabbed a set of clothes and tucked them against my chest. 

"Dress. Quickly," he hissed, before turning and helping the big man throw food and a few other things— flint and stone and herbs— into a pack. 

I was smuggled out of the castle in a cart by two men, who let me out from the tarp they had hid me under only when they were at the edge of the city and I could run into the forest without being seen. 

"You're free now," the boy had said as he and the man— Dew— pulled the tarp over my head. "But your path is not without danger. Be safe, and may the gods watch over you."

"Thank you, your highness," I whispered, unsure if the boy even heard.


	3. The Cliff

SRINY'ETE—

Escaping slavery should have been the end of my happily-ever-after. I should have been able to return to my home land Akar, meet a man I loved, and settle down with him and maybe another mate. I didn't care, as long as each time they touched me, fucked me, put their lips and tongues to my skin, I wanted it. As long as each time we mated, it was because I wanted their hands on my skin and their cocks inside me. I knew that love and physical pleasure were things to be desired— I'd seen my mamas and papas together, and I'd seen Jacob with Menya. It was something the Monster hadn't been able to dirty for me. What he'd done to me wasn't sex, it was an abomination and it was torture. Real love, real sex even, was something to celebrated. A way to physically express love or emotion. 

As long as it wasn't forced on me, I would've settled for any kind of love. 

Little did I know, it was my people who wouldn't settle for me. 

They recognized me immediately. Of course they did— even I knew how much I looked like Mama Lillian, though I hadn't seen her in so long, and I was but a child when I did. They recognized me in the border tribes— in the Starwind Tribe and Deercat Tribe. Recognized me, and reviled me for what I had become. 

As I travelled through, head down and cloak hood pulled up to cover my face, I could hear their whispers.

"Whore," they called me. 

"Slut."

"El'kahrian pet."

I knew then, any hope the boy prince had prayed for me was for naught. I dared not even show my face to my beloved Jacob, for how could he think differently? Yes, he had loved the little boy who followed at his heels and worshiped him. Had laughed at the antics of a child who swore to mate him. Who hugged him and held him and called him my own. 

He would revile and despise the dirty sex slave that little boy had become. He would be disgusted by the things that boy had done to survive. 

Why even bring myself that pain, when I knew without a doubt that he would feel the same as so many of our people? I knew the Akarans hated El'kahrians and their culture. They hated even the mention of El'kahr, so to have a man who had survived their slavery pressed into their faces? Of course they thought I was tainted and dirty. I had survived in El'kahr for over a decade, so they could only imagine the things I'd been forced, but had nonetheless _done_, to survive. Akaran honor demanded death before submission to a master not of our own choosing, death before the soul was too dirty to return to the homeland. 

So now there I was, on the seaside border of my family tribe, staring down at the churning water that would take my breath— finally. Gods, finally I would be able to just _let. go_. 

Maybe it would be alright. Maybe it wouldn't hurt so much. Though even if it did— I had survived worse. So if it took great pain to finally end it, I was alright with that. 

I accepted that. 

"Srin!" a voice called, making me flinch and jerk my head back and up. A man, tall and broad, with black hair tinged with gray, mostly around his temples, jumped from the horse who pranced excitedly, nervous to be so close to the edge of the cliff. "Srin, don't!"

The voice was deep and yet soft, and I wanted to let the tears that pooled in my eyes fall at the sound, but I didn't. I held on, my fingers gripping the stones beneath me as I glared up at the warily approaching man. 

JACOB—

_Dear gods, it's him_.

I wanted to sob, to scream, to give a great cry of jubilation at the sight of the young man whose legs hung dangerously over the edge of the cliff. 

I'd been told of Srin passing through outside my tribe by one of my mate's sisters, who told me with great trepidation. Her mate hadn't wanted her to tell me, but she'd refused to stay silent, and I would be forever grateful. 

There were puritans in Akar who believed any Akaran who was taken as a slave had somehow done something wrong by subjugating themselves to their slavery. So not only did many Akarans have to deal with the evils of slavery, but then they finally escaped or were freed, or however they came home, and they were ostracized as traitors. 

It was a great evil I had been trying to quell since I first took the Chief mantle from my mother, but I had been fairly unsuccessful. The puritans hated the El'kahrians so much they believed their slaves had some of the El'kahrian evil rubbed off on them and were no longer pure Akaran. 

Now I stared at the beautiful man who sat at the edge of a cliff, the boy I had assumed dead for so long, and wanted nothing more than to take on every man and woman who called that man dirty. Less. 

_My Sriny'ete_, I wanted to cry, staring at his slim but leanly muscled back, the long dark hair falling in thick, straight lines to curl in the dirt around his ass. 

Then he turned when I called him and I almost tripped over my own feet and bowled him over. Gods above and below, he was beautiful. Thick, heavy brows hung above piercing eyes a deep green so dark it was nearly indecipherable from black. Full lips, a cleft and yet delicate chin, and a strong, angular jaw. 

He wore a shirt and tunic a size too small for him, so they clung to him like a second skin, emphasizing his angular, bony body. His arms and legs long and lean— his legs so disproportionately long I wasn't sure which of us would be taller if he stood. His breeches, on the other hand, were a couple of sizes too big, and were held on only by a thin rope belt. 

"Ja..." he began, coughed, and then said, "Chief Jacob," his tone solemn, respectful, and full of terror. 

"Srin," I whispered, kneeling far enough away I wouldn't spook him, but close enough we could talk without having to yell over the crashing of the waves beneath us. 

Srin's eyes flicked back to the tribe mates I had brought, only six warriors and the hedge witch Yalsa. I wasn't sure what state I would find him in, so I had come prepared. When his eyes next met mine, they were guarded, unsure. 

"I thought you were..." I began, completely floundering as to how to talk a severely abused man off a ledge. For if he had been alive this entire time, taken as a boy of only five, I dared not even think of the horrors he had been forced to endure. The horror stories abounded— of children used in the mines, sent into spaces so small an adult couldn't fit, but then never seen again. Of child slaves used as pets by rich El'kahrian children, as if they were toys. 

And the worst stories abounded of the Monster, a man who used children sexually when they were so young they had not even a chance of fighting back. 

I prayed to the gods my Srin had somehow been lucky enough to have a kind master. One who kept him in the kitchens, or maybe even as a house slave, but never as those other horrible options. 

From the haunted look in his eyes, the scars I could see where his skin was uncovered by his clothes, bondage scars around both his wrists and his ankles, and the stories told by the tribesmen who had seen him, I knew I prayed for naught. 

"We thought you were dead, little one," I finished, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath to brace myself. 

"Not dead," he replied, and his voice sent a shiver down my spine. It was not the high pitched, excitable voice of the boy he had been. It was the deep, almost mournful in its somber tone voice of a man fully grown. "In hell."


	4. Chance

SRINY'ETE—

The boy Chief Jacob knew was dead. The man he had become soon would be. He should accept that, because I had. I had known this was my fate for a long time. It had just taken my heart a little longer to catch on. But the rejection of everyone I came across from my homeland had cemented my need for an end to the pain. 

I only prayed Jacob would see the need for my death and not fight me too much on it. If he did at all. Maybe he had only come to see if the rumors of my shame were true. Maybe he would leave me and let me get on with my death. 

"Don't do this, little one," Jacob whispered, and I flinched and turned away, towards the horizon where the slightest hint of gray heralded the coming of the moon. "Don't give up just when you've finally won."

I snorted and shook my head, refusing to meet his eyes. 

"I was a sex slave for an El'kahrian noble, and many of his friends when he was bored and felt like sharing, since I was five-years-old. I do not count that as a win, Chief," I said sarcastically, kicking my leg out just to watch it hover above the foaming waves so far beneath me. 

"You're still alive, little one," he answered, his words steady but slow, as if he rolled each one on his tongue before letting it slip past his lips. "You survived."

I shrugged and closed my eyes, lifting my face to catch the salt flavored breeze against my skin. 

"Maybe I shouldn't be alive. Maybe I should have died beside the bodies of my family. Then I could've had an honorable funeral, and our people wouldn't revile me so."

"They don't understand," Jacob whispered. "Please, little one. Give them a chance to change. Give them a chance to learn and to grow. Give yourself a chance to live, for the first time. Come home with me. Let me show you what your life and future was always meant to be."

JACOB—

I could see the moment he gave in, reluctantly, to my pleading. I didn't know if it was because he believed my words and had renewed hope for his future, or if it was due to some lingering affection he had for me and a desire not to end his life right where it would harm me the most. Either way, he had given life a chance, and I would do anything in my power to ensure he didn't get the short end of the stick again. 

I had brought an extra horse to bring Sriny'ete back with me, but he confessed he couldn't ride, his face blood red with shame. I realized my stupidity immediately— of course he couldn't. He was too young to learn before he was taken, and he wouldn't have ever had a reason to learn as a slave. 

Without a word, I lifted him up onto my own stallion, refusing to let him linger over the things he couldn't control. Then I jumped up behind him, holding him secure against my chest. 

"Hold tight to his mane, arayna," I said against his ear, using an old endearment I wasn't sure he would remember. But the moment I said the word, he fell limp, relaxed and content in my arms, and I knew he remembered. 

It was only an hour's ride back to Eyatka, the home seat of my tribe. That idea had a sliver of pain shooting through my chest. Sriny'ete had come home to end his life. Home where he had nearly been rejected by the very people who should have welcomed him with open arms and jubilant celebration. 

Srin was silent when we reached my home, and he was quiet for the months following. He barely opened up to me, no matter how hard I tried to get him to engage with me, with the members of my tribe. Gods, with anything but the damn horses he seemed to have fallen in love with. 

Dierd'a, who cared for my horses, seemed to accept him without hesitation, teaching the boy how to care for the horses, their riding equipment, and eventually to ride. 

It wasn't long before the boy was riding as if he'd been born to it. For hours, he would fly across the sands of the ocean, his long hair trailing out behind him, his face a mask of bliss he so rarely felt. 

But it was the only time he was happy— when he was among the horses. 

Over time, he filled out, a little less skinny, growing muscle and looking healthier. But the bags under his eyes were deep and dark, and each night he woke me with his screams from across the hall. Each night, I ran to his room and held him tight as he sobbed. I wanted nothing more than to defeat his monsters, to kill each and every person that ever touched my sweet Srin and gave him these nearly violent night terrors. 

But I couldn't. I was helpless to do anything but hold him and pray that someday he would be able to move past the horrors evil had inflicted upon him. 

Srin was doing what I'd asked him: he was giving my tribe and the life he could have with them a chance. 

They weren't all returning the favor. 

Many times I'd had to reprimand one of my tribesmen when I'd overheard them talking about Srin.

"I wonder if he grew to like it— being fucked by El'kahrians. I suppose if they're such prudes about everything, they've probably got some kinks in bed, eh?" my chef joked with Yalsa, my hedge witch. 

Yalsa rolled her eyes, but didn't scorn the man for his disgusting words. A week's dock in pay had him rethinking speaking that way about one of his tribe mate's though, and I never heard him speak badly of Srin again. 

At least not anywhere he could be overheard. 

I tried to push Srin onto some of the younger men and women of the tribe, hoping he could make a friend, a lover even. But he never stayed still long enough, and they soon gave up as well. It was frustrating, because I knew if he would just reach out, they would too, and I knew he needed friends. He needed lovers, and to find a way to live some semblance of a normal life past his trauma. 

Srin mourned Menya with me, visiting her grave many times and bringing her pretty seashells he found on his horseback adventures. My mate had succumbed to a lung sickness only three years after we lost the Regniir family, and I'd been unable to even think about trying to find another mate. Unlike many Akarans, one mate was enough for me. Besides, I was far too old to court someone. I didn't have the energy, now in my forties, to find another love. I'd had one already and I felt blessed in that. 

It was four months before I was forced to face an ugly truth: if _I_ didn't fully accept Srin'yete, as he was, as he needed me to, then no one would. 

And I knew the only way they would move past their distrust of someone who had lived in El'kahr for the majority of his life was for me to _force them to_.


	5. Heir

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warnings, ya’ll. Nothing in terrible detail, but Srin unloads about some pretty dark stuff, including underage rape.

SRIN'YETE—

I'd given Jacob and his tribe a chance, just as he'd begged me, and I regretted it each time I woke in a pool of my own sweat, screaming so loudly I tore at my own throat, tasting blood and bile. Each time Jacob was forced to soothe me back to sleep. Each time I walked into a room and all conversation stopped. Each time the slurs hit my ears. 

"Whore."

"Slut."

"Weakling."

"Fuck toy."

"Little pet."

"Couldn't have fought off a weak El'kahrian, little Srin? My teenage daughter could kill an El'kahrian with her eyes closed and one hand tied behind her back, you fucking weakling."

"You grow to like it, little whore?"

"You prefer the smaller El'kahrian cocks? Barely feel 'em in your ass, huh? Want me to show you what real Akaran meat feels like, pretty little Srin?"

"Traitor."

"No true Akaran would submit to slavery."

"Submission is sacred, and you gave it to an El'kahrian, you bitch."

I tried to ignore the words— they came from a handful of angry tribesmen, and that was all. The majority ignored me or were kind, even if I avoided them because the pity shining in their eyes and the way they treated me as if I might break at any second had me panting for breath as panic threatened to take me down into the dark. I tried to ignore them. But I wasn't always successful. 

Which was why I was so on edge when Jacob dropped his bit of "exciting news" on me in the middle of the day when I'd been in his home for nearly four moons. I'd had to fight past both Joy and Estin to get to the mansion from the stables, and they were some of my biggest and loudest critics. I'd nearly had to physically shove past them both, and my nerves were frayed with the confrontation. 

"You... you what?" I croaked at Jacob, my throat closing as black spots began to obscure my vision. I'd begun to think about leaving. I could never go back to El'kahr, but there were other places that I'm sure I could find my place. Places that wouldn't know my name or my past or my shame. Places I could escape my past and my love for a man who could never, and should never, return my love. I was dirty now, and Jacob deserved someone pure and clean and good. 

Being near him was healing me. It was amazing the way he calmed my mind and my heart when I woke in terror. But it was also killing me to be so near him and unable to touch him or love him the way I wanted. The way I _needed_.

I'd only just begun to seriously work the idea of leaving out in my mind, and now Jacob was...

"I'd planned to pick my heir from your family before they were all killed, Srin, and I've yet to find another. This makes perfect sense. The only problem will be finding you a mate, because I know you may be... reluctant in that regard. But we can move slowly. Just point me in the right direction— men or women? Both? Which do you prefer?"

I could do nothing but stare stupidly and try to keep the scream that bounced around my head from escaping my lips. 

"Please, Srin," Jacob whispered, his voice sweetly melodic as he sat beside me on the heavily cushioned couch I had been sitting on, watching the rain outside, before he burst in with an excited lilt to his voice. "I think this is the best way—"

"—Gods, Jacob," I cut in, almost afraid of the rage and horror and anguish slicing through my body. Afraid of how visceral and cutting and brutal it felt. "You still think your people will allow me as their Tribal Chief? Wake _up_, Jacob. I'm broken, I'm dirty, I'm a whore. They won't let me within 10 feet of their daughters and sons to mate, much less as the future leader of their tribe."

Jacob's face showed a thunderstorm of dark emotions. Anger. Sadness. Disgust. Horror. 

None compared to what I felt as I poured out my deepest fears to the man I never wanted to see those deep, dark parts of me. The man I never wanted to know the horrors in my heart. 

He shoved up to his feet, towering above me, glaring me down. "Don't call yourself that," he growled, his fists clenched at his sides, shaking visibly. 

"I spent more than a decade of my life letting a man fuck my ass, my mouth, share me around his friends when he got bored," I taunted, wanting to get a rise out of him. Needing him to _see me_ and not look away. To face the ugly and the brutal and the horrific. Because only then would he let me go. Only then could he accept that the little boy he knew so long ago was dead and could never come home. "What else would you call that but a whore?" 

His eyes flashed and I was grateful that among the dark thoughts and emotions I saw there, there was no pity. Not even a spark of it. 

"You were a child," he said, almost pleading. "You had no choice. You did what you did to survive."

"And if I liked it?" I yelled, jumping to my feet and staring him down. Jacob was nearly six inches taller than me, but I held my ground, chest to chest, my own fists clenched as I tried to hold back the hot tears that threatened to spill. 

"Stop it," he said quietly, almost gently. 

"If I liked it?" I repeated, urged on by his reaction to the words. He had to see. He had to. I had to show him, had to make him understand. Like everyone else did. Like they'd all accepted. All but him. "If I enjoyed it? Enjoyed—"

"—Stop it," he repeated, closing his eyes and stepping away, his chest heaving. But I ignored him, spit flying, losing myself in my rage as I poured everything out. Everything evil and dirty and wrong. Everything I'd thought buried inside, I poured out at Jacob's feet for him to do with what he would. 

"— enjoyed being fucked and passed around and used like a little whore. Enjoyed—"

"Srin, stop—"

"— being tied up and raped over and over and over, for years. Screaming your name because—

"Srin!"

"— I had nothing else to hold onto but your face—"

"—_please_," he whispered brokenly, but I couldn't. I couldn't stop. I couldn't stop just as I was _finally_ letting it all _go_. 

"— in my mind. Does that bother you, Jacob? That a little whore was thinking of you while they forced him to come—"

And then he was atop me, slamming me back onto the couch, his legs straddling mine, pinning me completely, and I... Gods, I wasn't afraid

_I. Wasn't. Afraid._

"Yes," I moaned, just before his lips took mine and I finally submitted wholly to someone by choice. "Yes, please Jake, please," I begged against his lips as his hips came down hard on mine and he rocked down against me. "I want you. Take me. Please. Just do it. Don't think, just love me. Just this once."

"Arayna," he moaned, his tongue spreading my lips apart and dancing inside my mouth. I'd had many kisses in my life but this... Jacob wasn't kissing me, he was owning me. Claiming me. 

Making me his in every way. 

And if that was just for tonight, I'd take it and never complain, because I'd never been happier as I was beneath my chosen man's body, breathing in his musk, accepting everything he chose to give me, and letting go of everything he chose to take. 

"My sweet Srin," Jacob said against my lips as he pulled back, then began to kiss and nibble his way down my neck to my chest. "My sweet boy."

The words had my eyes burning, but I refused to let the tears fall. No, that would wait until later. Until he came to his senses and realized what he'd allowed himself to touch and kiss and taste. 

A whore. 

"Yes, Jacob," I urged him as he slipped my shirt up and over my head, before his hands moved to my trousers. I helped him pull his own shirt off, my hands discovering every inch of skin I could reach. His hard, packed belly, his smooth, pebbled nipples, the dark, coarse hair coating his chest and trailing down his stomach to pool above his groin. 

Jacob yanked my trousers off, then wiggled his own down, before his cock was suddenly pressing against my own and I cried out. His balls hung low, teasing against my own as he slotted our dicks and made a few rough passes against me. 

"Yes!" I nearly screamed, my back arching. I was shocked I was hard— I hadn't been in years, and even when I had then it was a forced arousal and a forced orgasm. Now I was hard and leaking and Jacob had barely touched me. 

Before I could stop him, Jacob had his hands around my hips and he was flipping me around onto my front. 

Almost instantly, my cock began to soften as my breath caught in my throat. Images, emotions, sensations flashed through my mind and I felt nausea climbing my throat. 

"No!" I yelled, slipping back around and throwing my arms around Jacob's neck to hold him close. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling his body flush with mine. "I want it like this. Want to see you. Please."

I didn't want him to know how terrified I'd been when I couldn't see his face anymore. When I couldn't tell it was _my Jacob_ touching me, hovering above me, ready to take me and press himself inside me. I didn't want him to know, because I feared it would wake him up from his sexual frenzy and he would stop. So I hid my face from him and urged him on. 

He hesitated only a moment before I felt a trickle of something dripping down my balls and I almost let the tears fall. 

_Yes_, I thought with relief. _Yes, take me. Make me yours. I was always meant to be yours, not theirs. Take what is yours. I've been waiting..._

"So long," I whispered aloud. But the words were so quiet, Jacob didn't hear them at all. His face hidden in my neck, my body so tightly wrapped around him he could barely reach my hole, Jacob opened me with swift tenderness. One finger, two, then three. I never felt fear, never felt any misgivings or had any flashbacks because this was _my Jacob_ and this was what was meant to be. I'd known it since I was a child— though not in so much detail, and not the exact nature of what I wanted to give to Jacob and take from him— but it was what was _always meant to be_. Ordained by the gods and so very _right_.

"Arayna, lift up, just a little," Jacob instructed as he pulled his hips back from mine just enough to give himself room. I lifted my leg up and he gripped the hip in his rough fingers, holding it up by my head, pushing my ass up off the couch. 

"I'm going to show you what it should be, arayna," Jacob whispered as he brought his lips up to mine and penetrated me at the same time. 

Jacob pierced me completely, then kept going, and going, and gods I feared he'd never end. But then he did— his hips pressed firmly against my ass, his lips never pausing in their ministrations against my own, his tongue tasting and licking and his teeth nibbling. 

The moment his hips hit my thighs and ass and his balls slapped against me, I screamed against his mouth as I came painfully, nearly violently, up across both of our bellies and chests. 

My first orgasm given freely to the man I loved. 

Jacob groaned, whispering endearments and praise against the side of my neck and cheek as he began to move inside me. 

And gods, move he did. 

He thrust and stroked and slammed into me. He used my thighs as leverage, his hips moving in a practiced dance against my body as I lay and helplessly took what he desired to give me. 

I took and I took and I took until I was a pool of sweat and moans beneath him. 

"You're perfect, arayna," he groaned, his hips beginning to stutter as my body shook and heaved beneath his. "Can I come inside you? Or do you want me to mark your pretty cock and nipples with my pleasure? Tell me, arayna. Tell me what you want."

"Want you, Jacob," I answered honestly. "I'll always just want _you_, however you'll let me have you."

"Arayna!" he cried, slamming into me so hard the final few times I groaned and came again, up against his chest, a few drops landing against my neck. Then his heat was filling me and I sobbed against his neck as he rocked, his body completely encasing me in his heat and scent and the feel of his heavy weight pressing me against the cushions beneath me. 

_I love you I love you I love you_, I wanted to chant, but I held the words back. His heaving breaths against my neck were hot, his body trembling as he calmed from his orgasm. I lifted my arms to rub at his back, a smile on my lips at the way he seemed so overwhelmed he couldn't even sit up yet. A genuine smile of pure pleasure creasing my face for the first time in so, so long as his hips made little jerking motions against me, making my skin flush even more and aftershocks shoot down my prick. 

And then his words, said with horror against my skin, my skin that was heated from my two orgasms I'd _gifted him with_, said while his cock was still inside the body I'd given him, the virginity I'd offered to him without any hesitation, had my body stiffening and shame and sorrow rushing down my spine. 

"I'm... Gods, Srin, I shouldn't have... I'm so sorry," he whispered, true regret and horror coating each syllable. 

My entire body jerked at the pain in my chest as my heart shattered.


	6. Payment

JACOB—

My words, said in horror at the way I'd tackled Srin and fucked him like an animal in heat— gods, I'd lost control completely— had the younger man tensing against me so quickly I was almost worried his muscles would be injured at it. 

"Get," he began, his voice hard, cold-edged, and nearly emotionless. Devoid of anything but pure, unadulterated hatred and a rage that scared me. "Get off of me, Jacob. Now."

I threw myself back, wincing when my cock slipped too quickly from his ass. It was still semi-hard, and I knew the too-quick departure had to have hurt him. But he showed nothing, only sat up and pulled his shirt to him from where I'd thrown it. He ignored the copious amounts of cum that dripped out of his ass and onto the couch, but I saw it, and the little thrill that went through me at the sight had me feeling even more shame. 

My actions could only have complicated the situation. I never should have touched him, his body and submission weren't mine to take, and now I couldn't give that submission, that trust, back. He was confused, hurting, lashing out, and I'd given in to those self-destructive tendencies. 

I should have had more control, but he'd been so hurt. So confused. So utterly lost, and when he'd said he thought of me, through his years as a slave to evil men, something inside of me had snapped. Something dark and primal and angry screamed for me to take what I knew he wanted to give me. It screamed for me to show him what it was to be loved and pleasured and used for pleasure, without the degradation or the shame. 

But I shouldn't have. It was wrong. I was not the man for him, and I knew that. And I'd taken him so roughly, as if I was no better than the men he'd been raped by his entire life. 

Srin stood and grabbed his trousers, and I tried to reach him again, terrified I'd fucked up too far to fix what we had between us. 

"Srin, I'm sorry, pl—"

"— It's alright, Chief," he sneered as he tied his trousers and began to move to the door. "I just usually take the payment beforehand, so be sure to leave it in my room— somewhere easy to find. And I'll expect it beforehand if you ever want to dirty your cock again."

Then he was gone, slamming the door behind him, and I was left staring at the pool of wet where we had coupled against the couch, wondering where the hell I could go from there. 

SRIN'YETE—

I packed quickly. I didn't have much, just the clothes Jacob'd had made for me over the months I'd been living under his roof. I wouldn't need them, where I was going, but I felt like it was a little more cruel than I needed to be, to leave them behind as a reminder of the whore he'd dirtied himself with. 

I'd done what he'd asked. I'd given life a chance, and it had done nothing but serve me more pain. Different kinds of pain, to be sure, but pain nonetheless. 

Some people just weren't meant to live and be happy, and I had accepted I was one of them. Denying it had only prolonged my suffering. I hadn't been accepted into the tribe, I'd forced Jacob to fuck me when the idea had him disgusted, and I'd realized how very impossible it was for me to escape my past. 

So I wouldn't try anymore. Because trying meant pain and I was so fucking sick of pain. So fucking _done_ being strong. 

So I'd go back and finish what I started four months before, and I'd thank the gods that I'd been given one thing in the four months of anguish: for just a moment, the briefest of breaths, I'd experienced true joy. Bliss. In Jacob's arms, I'd been free. 

And I'd discovered what real sex, real pleasure and making love, felt like. I'd learned what it was meant to be, not the abomination the Monster made of it. 

For that, I would be grateful Jacob had talked me off the ledge of the cliff those four months before. 

It wouldn't happen again.


	7. The Rain is Heavy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****** So, if you're reading about a man who was a sex slave as a child, I figure at this point you know there's gonna be yucky stuff. This is the yucky stuff chapter. Not too much detail, and it's actually more his parents' deaths Srin focuses on, rather than his own captivity. If you're ok with triggers and don't want spoilers, skip over the next paragraph & enjoy!
> 
> TRIGGER WARNINGS: mentions of child rape, sexual slavery, rape and gore and descriptions of gruesome deaths, and suicidal thoughts. Proceed with caution because my mind is a dark place, ya'll.*****

JACOB—

I promised myself I'd give Srin a few hours. A few hours to cool down and calm himself. Then we'd talk. I would explain that I wasn't ashamed of what we'd shared— it had been beautiful and pure and one of the most incredible things I'd ever felt and experienced— but it couldn't happen again. He was too young— no, I was too old— but he would have me at his side while he found someone who could take my place in his heart. 

He was clinging to this attachment to me because it was all he knew. I was probably one of the only good men he'd ever known, the only connection he had to his past, his family, so he was clinging to me. He wasn't in love with me. He couldn't be. And it wasn't healthy for him, or for me, to keep appeasing it. 

A few hours before sunset, I went out to the stables to track him down. I'd thought he went out there to find comfort in the horses, but he wasn't there. 

I returned to the mansion, making my way back to the kitchen, where my tribe mates tended to gather when there was no work to do— like now, as they waited out the rain. 

I was met with a stony-faced Dierd'a, who glared me down from beside the fire, along with Joy and Estin— two of Und's, my chef's— mates, Und himself, and over a dozen other men and women who worked in or around Eyatka. Most played games— cards or dice— but some held tea cups to their chests and simply soaked in the warmth of the roaring fire. 

"Where is he?" I asked tiredly, and I was met with blank stares or outright hostility. 

Estin snorted with amusement, never taking his eyes off the cards in his lap. 

"The whore is gone," he said with a sneer. "Good riddance."

I'd never felt such fury as I did in that moment. It was murderous and dark and filled with torturous thoughts. All directed at every single man and woman in that room. 

"What if that was your son?" I bit out, rounding on Estin. He looked up at me, startled. "What if your son was taken and raped and beaten and tortured, and by the grace of the gods he _survived_. He fucking _survived_, despite all of the odds against him. He lived to be free, and then he came home, managed to escape his captors, and the men he should be able to call family shunned him for the things he was forced to do to survive, to continue breathing? Our children are forced into slavery every day, forced to do horrible things, and then when we manage to get them back, we condemn them for surviving. What if that was _your_ son!?"

By the end of my speech, I was screaming, my chest heaving, sweat trickling down my temple. If my people couldn't accept him, how could I possibly convince him to come home? How could I convince him I was wrong— gods, so wrong, and maybe too late. 

_No, I wanted to moan. Not too late. Can't be too late._

"We heard you fighting," Dierd'a explained, her words trying to soothe me as my chest heaved and I felt nausea climb up my throat. "So when he came out and left, we assumed you knew. We thought—" 

"— We thought you finally came to your senses and made him leave," Und cut in, coming up to stand beside his mates, who watched me with anger and confusion. 

_Hours_. He'd been gone for _hours_. 

_I can't lose him_, I realized with a start. _I love him. I can't lose him. Not now that I found him. Not now that he's safe and home and mine. _

_I can't. _

I had already lost Menya. I wouldn't survive losing another mate. 

"Chief?" Dierd'a began, but I held my hand up and shook my head. 

"If we survive the next few hours, and he accepts me, Srin'yete will be my mate within the fortnight. If you can't accept that, you're welcome to find another tribe. If I ever hear my mate spoken of in any kind of slur, if he ever tells me of one of you being unkind to him, being banished from my tribe will be the least of your worries."

I paused, staring around at the men and women around me. 

"He's a danger to himself and I have to find him. Come with me or don't. But I expect those of you who choose to leave to be gone by the time we return."

Nearly every man and woman in that kitchen followed me to the stables, and silently we made our way to find my mate. 

SRIN'YETE—

The rain was heavy against my head as I watched the sun set behind the line of the ocean through a little break in the dark gray clouds. I was in what I thought might be the exact same spot I'd been in four months before, watching the violent surf beneath me, taking deep breaths of the wet, salty ocean air. 

"Traitorous whore," Joy had taunted as I made my way out of the mansion and into the rain. "It's a good thing the Chief came to his senses about your dirty ass. It's shameful to have someone like you as a parasite on our tribe."

I walked past her silently, then past an intent, watchful Dierd'a, leaving Eyatka, Jacob, and life behind. 

It took me a few hours to traverse the distance that would normally only be an hour or so on horseback. I had known Dierd'a wouldn't let me take one of Jacob's horses— she was kind to me, but even she must know what I was and what Jacob must finally have accepted that I was. So I walked through the mud, the wind and rain pushing against me every step of the way. 

So it was that I was only sitting at the edge for a few minutes before I heard the hoofbeats behind me. I'd wanted to leave the world quietly and with dignity, but I suppose fate wasn't so kind. 

"You know, the slavers didn't kill my mamas or papas outright," I said, my tone almost conversational. 

JACOB—

I came up on Srin slowly, wary of the precarious way he held himself above the rocks and surf so, so far below him. 

"You know, the slavers didn't kill my mamas or papas outright," he said, and I flinched at his tone of voice. He was calm, so quiet I could barely hear him above the wind and the rain. Almost stony, his voice lacked emotion of any kind. It was cold. Cold as the wet and rain around him. 

_You're going to get sick in this cold_, I wanted to tell him. _Come inside with me. I'll heat you up and never let you go. I'll keep you by my side until I breathe my last breath, just don't. leave. me_.

"They started with my mamas, spent a few hours making them scream, raping them over and over until they just kinda stared up at the sky. Then they killed my brothers and sisters, slit their throats and let their blood wash over my mamas."

His voice never wavered. It was eerie, the way he spoke as if he was explaining the scenery he was looking at, or a picture he'd seen once. The Regniir family had been my friends. I'd been among the party of men that found their bodies, so I'd known the gruesome horror they'd endured in their deaths. But this recounting of everything that tiny, innocent boy had seen...

Gods, I was going to be sick all over the sopping mud beneath my knees. 

But Srin sounded unaffected. Almost peaceful in his recounting of his traumas. In this outpouring of the evil in his heart, put there by men who deserved to languish in the deepest pits of the four hells. 

"My papas were last, but only after they forced swords and knives up their asses as they called them El'kahrian slurs. I didn't know the words then, but now I can guess. I think Papa Ander died before they even slit his throat. He wasn't moving anymore."

Srin paused, taking a deep breath, but not as if he was fortifying himself. Almost as if he was smelling the air around him, enjoying the salt on the back of his tongue. 

"Most of them liked it when I pretended to like it— especially the women. But my Master preferred it when I screamed, so he would make me hurt. With fire and knives and brands. I was his favorite— he said so often enough, and he kept me even when I was too old for him to fuck. 

"The whole time, your smile kept me alive, Chief. My JakeJake." 

The tears that were already pouring down my face turned into sobs as I hid my face in my hands, barely able to breathe past the clog in my throat as I bent over my knees and heaved against the dirt. Nothing came out but snot and tears but I still couldn't breathe. 

Srin continued on, as if he were listing ingredients in a stew. His next words were almost dreamy, breathy with a weird kind of bliss. A soft, nearly gentle kind of sorrow. 

"But I'm tired now, Jacob," he whispered. "Just... I'm so tired. I think I deserve this, you know? I deserve the peace of death, for everything I've suffered and all the years I endured." 

"You deserve life and love, little mate," I said, pleading, trying to shout to make myself heard over the wind but barely able to for the tears that clogged my throat. "Mate me, and I'll spend what years I have left showing you how you should be loved."

Srin snorted in disbelief and finally turned to me, a sad smile plastered to his lips. He looked as if he wanted nothing more than to sleep. Just sleep and never wake. 

_No_, I pleaded. _No, please. Please, fight for me, little mate. Fight for life. Just_... fight. 

"Thank you— those words are ones I've dreamed of listening to you say my whole life, so thank you for letting me hear them, just once, even if they were false. But no," he replied, that sad little smile never wavering. "I won't force someone into a mating for pity."

Then he was twisting to stand and my heart leapt into my throat. 

"If you jump!" I screamed, half-standing, my hands out placatingly, but anger in my voice. Anger and absolute conviction. "I'll jump in after you! You join me in life, Srin, or I'll follow you to death. I feel no pity for you, arayna. I never have. Only respect for your strength, your fortitude, and your will to survive. And I love you. I probably have for a long time, differently, sweetly, until it changed and now it's the kind of love I can barely breathe for. But you're just... dammit, Srin, you were a child! You had to grow up, and now you have and I... I love you. Love me. Mate me. Make me your new reason to live, if you can't find another. For now, until you find a reason of your own, until you find your own will, until your soul is healed enough to stand in its own, it will keep you alive."

Srin shook his head, and finally, finally, there was a crack in that eerie calm. His bottom lip quivered as he stared out at the churning ocean. I felt hope, bright and full, for just a second before everything crashed down around me. 

"I can't get the screaming out of my head," he whispered. "The children, my own... I can't. I'm sorry."

He moved so quickly I barely saw it. One minute he was turned away from me, the next he was flying through the air. 

I didn't hesitate. Not even for a second. 

I leapt atop him, wrapped my body around his as tightly as I was able, and closed my eyes as the wind screamed past my ears. Or was that Srin screaming?

Then my back hit the water, and all I knew was darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *****GASP! Don't hate me 🙈😭*****


	8. For Always

SRINY'ETE—

_Nonononononononononononononono_.

"_No_!" I screamed, dragging Jacob's limp, soaked body out of the water and up onto the rocky shore. "No! No no no no no no no no no!"

I fell back, unable to move another inch. Ignoring the yelling I could barely hear from the top of the cliff, Jacob's tribe mates, horrified that their Chief was now lying prone on a beach—

_Not dead_, I begged to anyone, anything, listening. _I'll do anything. Anything. He can't be dead. He can't be. Not like this. Not because of me_. 

I pushed against Jacob and screamed wordlessly when he flopped a little but didn't breathe. 

I forced myself up and made a big fist with both of my hands, my fingers clenched together. I lifted myself up, then slammed both fisted hands down against Jacob's chest. His body jerked, but nothing else. 

I screamed again, then again, as over and over I slammed my fists down on his chest, using the weight of my body to force breath into his lungs. 

The horse hooves were getting louder and louder as I screamed over and over, each scream slamming hard down against Jacob's chest. My lungs burned and my chest heaved, sweat or saltwater, probably tears, blinded me, but I ignored it all. 

I bent down, pressing my lips harshly against his cold, blue mouth, and forced air down his throat. 

I was alive, because Jacob had taken the brunt of the fall. 

I was alive, because he wasn't breathing. 

"_No_!" I screamed as, once more, I slammed my entire body down against his chest. Then I was breathing into his mouth again, then slamming into him, and back and forth until...

Finally, gods _finally_, his chest heaved and he spit and gurgled water up and out of his mouth. 

I sobbed, yanking him onto his side so he could heave the water up and out of his lungs. I shook violently as he laid back down and stared up at me, at my blotchy, snotty, swollen face, and smiled weakly. 

"I told... you," he gasped out between heaves of breath. "Join me in... life, or I'll... follow you... to death."

I sobbed and shook my head as the tribe rode up— nearly two dozen men and women who all looked relieved to see their Chief alive. I kissed his cheek, then each eye, his forehead, peppering his entire face and most of his neck in soft, soaking wet kisses, and he weakly laced his fingers in the hair at the back of my head, holding me against him. 

"You stupid, stupid man," I muttered between kisses. "How could you...? You idiot. I hate you. I hate you so much."

Jacob's chuckle was pained when I pulled away. 

"I love you too, my young mate," he said with a groan. 

JACOB—

I was carried back to Eyatka on a stretcher put together with hearty wood and a bit of magic on Yalsa's part, if I wasn't mistaken. Yalsa was quick to scold me about the concussion and two broken ribs and the broken clavicle she'd healed. But I was alive, my mate was alive and refusing to leave my side, so a few broken bones was a small price to pay. 

We were met with solemn, humble greetings, and no one even looked askance at Srin. 

Und, Estin, and Joy were gone, but they were the only ones. Though, I was told later by Dierd'a, they had tried to convince many to go with them and had been shocked when no one did. The vitriol against my mate had been perpetrated mostly by the three of them, and with them gone, I had hope that my mate's place would be solidified in the tribe. 

Especially if they saw how well he cared for me. 

Yalsa walked Srin through waking me every hour and asking me questions, easy ones that may confuse me if my brain had damage from the concussion. I was drugged and my bones were healed with Yalsa's magic, still a little sore, but put back together, but my mate took her words and my health very seriously. 

Each time he woke me, it was with a hot mouth swallowing my prick, or teeth nibbling at my nipples. And, despite my age and the potions Yalsa had forced on me, despite my recent injuries and the emotional upheaval of the day, each time I woke, I orgasmed down Srin's throat before he jacked himself to completion over my belly or against my lips, or against his hand, his palm smooth, his other hand working my balls. 

Just after dawn, I woke to him straddling me, then sitting down on my cock, impaling himself completely in one smooth backwards stroke. His hips moved languidly, almost lazily, as our fingers entwined and he used my arms as leverage to thrust his hips back and forth and around.

"I love you, arayna," I whispered huskily up at him. A tear dripped down his cheek as I spoke, followed by more as I continued. "I love your scars, and I love your strength. I love your soul and I love your sweet heart. I love your past, and your present, and I'll love you for always."

He sobbed as he came, untouched, against my stomach, his ass clenching around me and drawing one final orgasm from my exhausted, wrecked body. He fell limp against me and I wrapped my arms around him, our bodies hot, our chests heaving, but comfortable in each other's embrace. 

"I love you, Jake," he whispered against my chest just as sleep claimed me again.


	9. EPILOGUE: War

SRINY'ETE, THREE YEARS LATER—

"We'll fight in your name, Sriny'ete," Mik'ael said from atop his stallion, the men around him shouting their agreement with raised fist and a great, terrifying war cry. I had to fight back tears as I nodded, returning the man's raised hand gesture with what smile I could muster. 

"We'll avenge the wrongs done to you, and punish the El'kahrians who allowed it to happen." 

His words were met with another pounding of sound around us, and Jacob gripped my hand just that little bit tighter to keep me grounded.

I wanted to beg him to keep his mind open and not jump to the idea that all El'kahrians were evil. After all, I wouldn't be alive today to love my mate, spend my life with him, if it weren't for a terrified young man with golden hair and hope in his eyes. But I held the words back. War wouldn't be kind to any, and there was no mercy we could show our enemies, for they would show us none. 

The worst fear I'd felt in years ripped through me only a few weeks before when the messenger came for Jacob, summoning him to a war council. 

"I'm coming with you!" I yelled even before the messenger finished speaking. Jacob met my eyes and nodded, confused. 

"Of course, arayna," he replied, frowning as he moved to me and held his hands out to me. 

"And I'm... Jacob, I can't go back. I can't return to El'kahr, even—"

Bile rose up my throat and I was unable to finish the thought, but Jacob only shook his head. 

My night terrors had died down over the years, not wholly gone, but quieter, less frequent, and I'd never had any issues making love to my mate. I still liked to be facing him when he penetrated me, but we were slowly working on that fear, and I knew it would be gone with time and patience. 

And if my mate had nothing else, he was overwhelmingly patient. 

"Arayna, ex-slaves are exempt from battle duty, as are the mates of Chiefs. So you're doubly safe. You'll stay here, with me, and help me keep up the manor. We'll be short staffed in the farm and the manor for a long time, as well as the hunting, and... well, everything, with so many leaving. I'll need you here, sweet Srin."

I was ashamed by the relief I felt at that, but my mate only cupped my cheeks in his big palms and smiled softly. 

"No one could possibly expect you to return to your hell, arayna." Then he turned to the messenger, wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pulling me up against his body. "I don't need to attend the war council. I vote for Geir of the Moonstone Tribe as Warlord, as I'm sure he's the most likely candidate from all of the tribes, and I'll have my available men and women ready for battle within the fortnight."

"Yes, Chief Jacob," the messenger said, before jumping back on her horse and leaving as quickly as she'd come. 

Now, only two weeks later, I watched as nearly six hundred men and women of Summerstone Tribe saluted me after Mik'ael's words and the war cries died down, then they were gone and I was left with my head pressed up against Jacob's neck, sobs wracking my chest, praying to every god I knew the name of to bring my family back to me. To give Geir the strength and wisdom to bring an end to the bloodshed as quickly as humanly possible. 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *****Thank you so much for reading and sticking with me through Jacob and Srin'yete's angst. I hope you liked it, and I hope you love them as much as I do :):)*****


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